Best Deathhouse Poems
...a true story
Her house was just a shell, a burnt-out ruin...
standing apart, the other houses still intact
with painted jalousies and window curtains.
She must have fallen asleep, the cigarette
still dangling from her arthritic fingers;
I never saw her without one.
She told me of her life in Poland during the war,
but not her suffering, she never spoke of that.
She smiled wanly as she showed me old photos
of her family and friends taken on holiday when
she was younger, long before the ravages of war.
TV was her constant companion along with
her nurse and her beloved Pekingese,
always sitting on her bed. We'd talk for hours.
She was always interested in my schoolwork,
and why didn't I have a girlfriend?
Now she lay in hospital small and silent;
there was nothing I could do but hope and pray.
When they drew the sheet up over her I felt an
emptiness, but no tears came. Fourteen years old,
my first death up close. When I got home to mum
and dad, only then in their comforting embrace
did I sob my heart out.
Her house was just a shell, a burnt-out ruin...
Last night I dreamed, your house decayed away
In that same way, your body must be now
Your memory is lost in me somehow
What you once were, dissolved beneath the clay
Your house remained, on that the final day
As your remains were lowered down below
Still in your living room, your things would show
Residing spirit you, in there would stay
The dream I had, has turned my head around
For in it came despair, I had not felt
Your house and with it you were rotting down
The place in which your spirit always dwelt
I’m lonely now, as you are really gone
Residing spirit me, must now move on
[I tweaked this slightly after Andrea's wonderful advice;constructive advise is one reason
I am here on Poetry Soup]
I traveled along a dark road one night
With the chill winds of a cold winter brushing against my exposed arms
This one side street proved to be one I will never forget
But so, at the same time, I can't make any promises with memory
It was empty, quiet, not a soul to be found
Not a single voice echoed off the bricks
The only light shining came from the 24-hour deli
The sole purpose of my walk
Approaching the light it grew brighter and brighter
Until the door seemed engulfed in white
My body lost control. I was a puppet to my subconscious
The door swung open and I stepped into the light
Bright as the Sun
Forever falling, so it seemed
Was I being told something?
I knew I was dreaming, but not what this meant
And, to me, all dreams have a meaning somewhere
I hit a concrete floor, and felt a
Sharp pain. It seemed so real; it was more vivid than anything I could've conjured up from my mind
I looked around, and saw houses
Small, but wide, fit for a fine family
It looked familiar to me, like I had seen it before.
And so, I had to continue on
I refused to wake up. I had to see this to the end because
I was curious
I chose a house
Instinct drove me to that one small house on the corner
Why did my mind choose this? Where was I?
This had to have been a place of importance, but I couldn't place my finger on it
The door was wood, splintered and seemingly wrecked
And it had a window that was shaped like the NBC logo
The rest of the house was fine, perfect condition
Upon observing the walls the door vanished into smoke and ashes
I stepped inside, and all I could hear was an echoing cry
It was an angst filled cry, no tears of joy filled this dark home
I thought I knew where I was now
It was all too familiar